Helenira Leonara
Helenira Leonara is the most famous healer in the Fenvara world. It's been said that there is no place that her name hasn't been mentioned. She is also very mysterious, although she would heal anyone, good or evil. Nobody has ever matched her skill. Though, now healers all over the world are trying to learn in her footsteps on how to be more like her. Remembering the Great Healer The first event created in Fenvara. Nation leaders had to choose how to honor Helenira. Whether it was through building a temple, or creating a festival. This was the text accompanying the event on the forums. A light fog blanketed the evergreen grasses of the eastern Traybian field. The short and stocky farmer brushed the sweat from his brow...the sun hadn't even graced the landscape yet he, like many other farmers, had one thing on his mind...crops, and the gold and silver coin that would follow a good harvest. He stood back, examining the plow and harness attached to a large wooly ox-like creature. He had disregarded the great festival in honor of Helenira that was taking place in his village, as it would continue to for another few days, as per the traditions of his people. 'Is a dead woman gonna plow me fields?' The sentence repeated sarcastically in his head every time he left the village and headed for his crops. Tightly he took the old worn leather reins and wrapped them around his caliced hands. But he stopped...a noise in the distance...almost the drum-like rhythm of running horses...he unwrapped the reins and walked closer. What is that noise? Suddenly the sound of snapping, followed almost immediately by arrows flying firmly into his chest and torso, and several into the ox-like creature who ran charging from the field leaving only a trail of blood before in finally fell ten yards away. Falling to the ground he grasped one of the reed-like arrows in his chest. As he knelt he gasped for the brisk Traybian air one more time, fearing it would be his last. It was then the three horsemen trotted up, one of them adjusting his fur-lined leather cap and placing his shortbow over his shoulder before dismounting his ashen-gray steed. He leaned over the farmer, who know coughed up crimson bubble-filled blood, and whose eyes began to glaze... "You should not farm so far out of your village..." He grins, taking a bite from a ripe cherry-red tomato, that looked suspiciously like it had come from another one of the farmers crops... "There are wolves about..." The bandit laughs as he takes the small bag of coin from the farmer and stands to mount his steed. His uncaring windburned face looking out toward to the plains as his band ride over the body of the dying farmer. As the golden rays of the sun casted their light upon the Traybian hills, the light fog began to disperse. The dying farmer, struggling to take in another gasp of air, gazed toward the light of the sun, assured of the fact this would be his last sunrise. But a light singing in an unknown tongue distracted and soothed his troubled mind. His body slowly lifted from the bloodstained grasses as his eyes caught the gaze of the figure who glowed a radiant bluish green aura. The arrows that had once sealed his fate like nails in a coffin floated out of his body painlessly...suddenly he could breathe easy again. As his body returned to the ground he saw the old female figure smile as she continued to sing, her imagine fading from sight, leaving the startled farmer alone to consider what had just happened... Running back to his village, still wearing his blood soaked tunic, and carrying the bandit's arrows in his hands he entered the large wooden gates to hear the singing of dancing of the Festival. Ceremonial incense permeated the air as he raced to tell all of his story...a story that he himself would not have believed before. Helenira had saved him. This time of great celebration can be heard in many communities and within many races across the land. The time of Rememberance to Helenira is at hand...